


What’s in a Name

by Sithisis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 18:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sithisis/pseuds/Sithisis
Summary: Stiles likes to feed the ducks at Beacon Hills Park every other morning. When he notices another person who visits the park just as much as himself, he realizes that feeding the ducks isn’t the only thing he looks forward to anymore.





	What’s in a Name

It’s 7AM on a Saturday morning and Stiles has just gotten out of the local gym. He likes going to the gym in the mornings, as there isn’t anyone there to bother him. The quiet routine of doing strength training and cooling down with just the right amount of cardio makes for the start of a feel-good day. 

He breathes in the fresh air as he enters Beacon Hills Park, opting to take a shortcut home while enjoying the scenery composed of colourful flowers and interesting shrubbery. That, and early birds chirping away like there’s no tomorrow is nice to experience. 

When he comes across a bench by the small pond and sees a few ducks waddling by it, he remembers that he has some birdseed on his person. They are a great snack while he’s training, and they’re not a conglomeration of supposed healthy stuff like rock-solid granola bars. Stiles takes a seat at the bench, takes out his package of birdseed, and sprinkles a few on the ground close to the water. 

Immediately, it catches the attention of a few ducks as they both swim and walk closer to him and the food. After a bit more sprinkles of birdseed, Stiles notices that he’s almost running out, and feels a bit saddened that the ducks still seem very hungry. Poor things. He scatters the rest of the seeds for the ducks before getting up from the bench, and makes a silent promise to the animals that he will return in the mornings with more food for them.

* * *

 

Stiles begins feeding the ducks at Beacon Hills Park every other day, and eventually Scott notices and expresses a bit of concern, because of course he does.

“I hope you’ve not been feeding them bread, Stiles,” Scott says.

Before Scott could continue, however, Stiles already beats him to it. “I know. Bread isn’t good for them, and it would pollute the pond and stuff. Don’t worry, I’ve just been feeding them birdseed.”

Scott relaxes, and then brightens, suddenly remembering something. “Hey! So you remember Kira, right?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’ve only been talking about her non-stop for what -- several months now?”

“Some of her work is gonna be featured in a museum art exhibit a few weeks from now! She’s invited me, and I could also get you in, if you’d like!” Scott continues, giving Stiles puppy-dog eyes. He really wants his friend to attend and know just how amazing, wonderful, brilliant Kira is, as he himself has always put it.

“Of course I’ll come,” Stiles replies, grinning.

* * *

 

Every other day, he would feed the ducks by the pond, and every other day, he would notice new things. Take the person who sits at the picnic table across the small pond, for example. Stiles observes that he must be doing something very important, because his eyes are always glued onto the notebook in front of him. 

The person has a rugged look about him that Stiles very much likes. It’s probably the facial hair or something. When the person does lift his head up, looking as if lost in thought, Stiles would catch glimpse of his golden eyes. Soon, Stiles realizes it isn’t only the warm morning sunlight or feeding the ducks that he looks forward to anymore. 

Stiles wonders what the person is working on, and has the thought to ask, but worries if it would be too weird to say that he’s been observing him across the pond for weeks now. 

When he tells Scott about it, Scott just smiles mischievously. “I bet he looks up at you when he thinks _ you _ aren’t looking. Just go up to him, say you’ve noticed him, and greet him, Stiles.”

“But--”

“What happened the the brave friend I’ve always known? You know -- the one who told me to go for it with Kira?”

Stiles relents that Scott does have a point, so he promises himself that he would do it. He’s gonna just introduce himself and ask the person for his name. Just a name. He’s got nothing to lose, right?

* * *

The next time Stiles is at the park, he feeds the ducks for a few minutes before making his away to the person across the pond. He sits down casually, or as casually as he could, clears his throat, and offers a small wave and greeting.

“Hey -- I noticed that you’ve always been here every other morning like me. Or maybe not every other morning, but every morning? I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve probably been working on something important and are probably working on something important right now seeing that you’re pouring a lot of concentration and dedication into it and --” Stiles stops himself, because _ oh my god _ he’s noticed that he’s rambling again when he’s promised himself to just ask for the person’s name.

“I’m Stiles, by the way,” he tries again, offering a hand.

The person looks at his hand, and seems hesitant to take it in his own for a moment. However, he relents and shakes it nonetheless. “Derek,” the person says.

“Is that the name of your work?”

One of Derek’s eyebrows rise up, and he lets out a chuckle. “Stiles,” he says.

“Yeah?”

Derek shakes his head before getting up from the picnic table and gathering his supplies. “Let’s head to your bench for today,” he says.

Stiles just nods because  _ oh my god _ he didn’t think the mysterious and good-looking guy from across the pond would respond positively to him and Scott is a genius or something. 

As they take a seat on the park bench together, Derek flips through his notebook, which turns out to actually be a sketch book, much to Stiles’ delight.

“I’ve been sketching in the morning here, because it’s quiet. Save for the chirping sparrows and ducks, of course,” Derek tells Stiles.

Stiles’ face grows a little warm, and he knows that it isn’t because of the heat from the sun. “Yeah... sorry about that. But they seem so hungry all the time? I just have to feed them something.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Derek replies. He turns to a page of his sketch book, and allows Stiles to take a look at it. It is a charcoal drawing of a bunch of ducks swimming across the pond and flocking to birdseed at the shore. So realistic and lovingly drawn the artwork is that Stiles gasps. 

“It’s amazing,” Stiles says, and very much means it. “Are you an art graduate or do you ever take commissions? And what else have you been drawing?”

Derek looks taken back by the sudden burst of questions, but he answers them. “No, it’s just a hobby that my sister Laura introduced it to me. She says it helps with coping with loss and all...” Derek smiles forlornly before continuing. “I think I’m over-sharing, more so than yourself, but most of my family passed away in a huge fire, so...”

“I’m sorry.”

Derek shakes his head. “Anyway, I do take commissions from time to time, and I’ve just been drawing things I see around this park.” He then shows Stiles a few more drawings, which consists of a couple walking their excitable dog, a stray cat focusing on a butterfly upon a flower, and a bunch of ducklings drying their feathers. 

Just as Stiles is about to mention that Derek should come to the art exhibit that Scott told him about, Derek’s phone rings. Derek gets up abruptly after answering it. “I’m sorry. I seem to have fallen behind schedule. I’ve got to go.”

And he’s gone. Just like that.

Stiles thinks he may have simply imagined his time with Derek.

* * *

On the day of the art exhibit, Stiles is still lamenting of what could have been with Derek. He thinks that he was too upfront with Derek, and he thinks about how he could have toned it down with the plethora of questions.

Scott helps him with his tie as he rambles on about this, and simply shakes his head. “Hey, at least you tired, Stiles. And now you know that if he can’t handle you when you’re just being you, you know he isn’t worth it, alright?”

“Thanks, Scott,” Stiles replies. His best friend has always known what to say.

“Now let’s hurry to the museum, okay? I don’t want to be late for Kira’s art!”

“Kira’s art isn’t gonna get up and move away, you can’t possibly mess up!” Stiles jokes, and Scott lightly punches him on the shoulder. 

“You know how much this means to me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles grins. And they leave for the art exhibit not a second later.

* * *

The art exhibit is as amazing and wonderful as Scott claimed it to be. Kira’s artwork consists of foxes and swords and spirits, which Scott is very much in love with as much as their artist. Stiles really likes Kira’s artwork as well, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand all of the symbolism behind it. Perhaps when he’s acquainted with more artwork and artists, he would get a better idea of it all.

Now, Stiles is walking through the museum corridors, admiring different pieces of artwork. One of them is a book -- representing that writing is artwork in and of itself as well. He finds the interactive artwork fascinating, notes that sculptures created from junk are the height of creativity, and he is moved by works of First Nations artists. 

When Stiles moves into another corridor, he stops short.

There, displayed in the middle of other charcoal drawings, is a splitting image of none other than himself. 

He looks candid as he feeds the ducks by the pond. His gym bag is beside him on the bench, and his hair is kind of messy from him quickly washing and drying it after his morning workout. Sunlight looks to be shining on him, creating light shadows and a softness to the drawing. His eyelashes have been delicately drawn as well, and Stiles never realized that he smiled while feeding the ducks until now. 

“I had to rush to submit this drawing of you last-minute... since I couldn’t think of a name until that day,” a voice from behind him interrupts his thoughts.

Stiles turns around and sees Derek. 

Whether in street clothes or a suit, Derek looks impeccable. Is impeccable. 

“Oh, yeah?” Stile says, grinning and already knowing the answer to the question he’s about to ask. “What’s the name of this drawing?”

“Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are much loved <3


End file.
